


it is here, in the cradle of all i hold dear (i guard every memory of you)

by letherbeseen



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Horror, Canon Rewrite, Competent Bella, Eddie and Bella are taking a short break, Gen, Lupita Nyong'o as one of the Wives because why not, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Renesmee's name is Elizabeth Carlie Cullen in this fic, Slight Edward Bashing, Spitefic, Twilight Series Rewrite, Twilight Spitefic, Vampires, with Riley & Bree & Leah & Demetri as the main characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letherbeseen/pseuds/letherbeseen
Summary: When Leah Clearwater finally returns to her home for the first time in three years for Sue and Charlie’s wedding, she gets more than she bargains for when she searches for more about her heritage and the wolf running underneath her skin. Meanwhile in Seattle, Riley and Bree are on the run as Nomads, struggling to adjust to their lives as vampires after their creator’s death by Edward Cullen while thousands of miles across the sea in the city of Volterra, tracker Demetri considers leaving the Guard and questioning his loyalty to the Volturi.orThe one where Riley doesn't believe Victoria's lies; Bree struggles to control her bloodlust; Leah tries to find her purpose in life; and Demetri considers leaving Volterra and the Volturi once and for all.





	1. Riley | Leah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Necroposter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Necroposter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Be Careful What You Wish For](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4930339) by [The_Necroposter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Necroposter/pseuds/The_Necroposter). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley and Bree struggle to adjust to their new lives and Leah finally returns home.

_A/N: This is my first fanfiction for the Twilight Saga. I felt like Riley, Bree and Leah were underrated or unappreciated characters and wanted to divulge more into the mind of Demetri as well. I thought of how everything would affect everyone if it was done in a realistic(ish) take. Alternative-version of Twilight which I hope you enjoy!_ _Diverges from canon right after Breaking Dawn and during the Victoria/Edward fight. This story pulls from all five movies and all four books of canon (including_ **The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner** and **The Illustrated Guide** _), incorporating things in different but familiar ways. Inspired by fic Be Careful What You Wish For written by The_Necroposter. Go read it! It's incredibly written and amazing! Please review and feel free to leave me some criticism._

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

**RILEY**

* * *

 

Once, he was human.

He remembers the tell-tale of his beating heart and the blood pumping through his veins pouring life into him.

Now, he's made of stone and there's an cannibalistic urge inside him crying out to be satiated.

Satiated with blood.

Riley lingers in the darkness, hiding in the shadows as he chooses his next feed, the next human that will soothe and calm his thirst. He waits patiently as he can, biding his time as his target makes her way carefully down the university steps, finally drifting away from her talkative friend. He follows her, the girl’s blood calling out to him.

He's tempted. And so, _so_ thirsty.

Finally, the girl steps into a darkened alley away from any witnesses, away from anyone else that could hear her screams. He takes that chance and runs, using his vampire speed to grab her, dragging her back into the dark, muffling the sounds of her frightened screams with one hand. She struggles and thrashes wildly and he grips her tighter, tilting her neck to the side.

“Please!” she cries out over and over. He just wants her to be quiet so he can feed in peace and he whispers an apologetic and sincere “I'm sorry” before he sinks his teeth into her neck. Blood fills his throat and he doesn't think; he drinks her blood greedily like the monster he is. He can feel the pulse of it on his teeth, in his mouth, in every part of him and then — yes, the sweetness, slick and hot and pumping and pulsing, filling his mouth, his throat, and his stomach, limning his veins with fire, roaring through his body, and his nerves are singing, this is what he'd wanted, what he'd needed, yes, yes, yes, oh, it is glorious.  
  
He drinks and drinks until he can't drink anymore and _OH GOD_ —  
  
The night is alive and he's alive, full to the brim with heat and life and his skin feels hot and flushed and . . . he feels alive.

And then he remembers he isn't anymore.

He breathes heavily and forcibly tears himself away, licking her blood from his lips, letting go if the girl as her breathing turns ragged, her bones losing the fight. The girl falls to the ground, unmoving but still alive. _She's still alive._

His stomach knots and writhes in his middle and he can feel it full of blood, of human blood, _her_ blood and he doubles over and heaves — but nothing comes up, no, his body holds fast and refuses to give up its meal, and he crams his fist helplessly in his mouth, wiping furiously at the blood on his lips with his sleeve.

Repulsion and shame floods through him as he stares down at the girl he's almost murdered. Her eyes will be forever branded into his soul, just like the others. His hands curl into fists at his sides and with guilt rushing through him and an weary choking gasp exhaling from his lips, he leans down, scooping the girl in his arms carefully and begins his course to the hospital.

He makes sure they will find her in an area where she can be seen. This girl, whom he hadn't taken the time to learn her name or whether she had a life outside of Seattle. He whispers another apology and makes sure her wallet is in place for identification and medical insurance. Then he turns and speeds away toward the nearest neighbourhood. God, he hates this. He wishes that he could return desperately to life he had before he was turned by Victoria, before he learned anything about the world of vampires and werewolves.

But now, Victoria is gone and he is free.

_I am free. I am free._

He'd escaped the day the Cullen boy — Edward — told him to think about it: how Victoria had chosen him because he knew the area well. The red-headed vampiress had pleaded to him to not let him tear them apart, but the truth was, they were never really together in the first place. She'd been manipulating him, stringing him along and he'd played into her hands like a fool. But then he'd began to have his suspicions: why was she really doing this? There had to be something _more_. When Riley's transition to a newborn vampire had been completed, he didn't remember anything. Victoria had told him she was his lover and that she'd turned him so that they could be together forever and he'd believed it. Little fragmented memories returned slowly and he put the pieces together.

The case file Sheriff Swan had when he broke into the human's house. He was missing. He was presumed dead.

_I am dead. I am dead._

He was dead, a vampire. She'd bitten him on his way home from a stop at the Oregon University Café and the pain from her venom had been excruciating. He'd laid there screaming as he died on the docks, rain drenching him as he tried to fight and survive and remain human. He’d failed.

_You're a failure._

Victoria had tried to attack him when he revealed that he knew that she was lying to him all along, leaping on top of him screaming about Edward, Bella, and somebody named James. Edward had pulled her off of him and then, they were fighting and he turned to leave, only to be yanked back with the force of a wolf’s teeth. He howled in agony as his arm was ripped off, grabbing the piece before they could burn it and fled. But not before he took Bree with him, saving her from the destruction of the rest of the newborns he's so unwillingly created.

Riley’s grown fond of Bree since the day they left. She's the first person he turned and he loves her like his human little sister who he's left behind in Forks. He feels awful everyday that he'd brought her into this life and wishes that he could take it back, wishing that he could go back in time and just not choose _her_. Bree is frozen forever at the age of sixteen, thanks to him. She will never become an adult and will never be able to have children . . .

_My fault. All your fault!_

Bree’s sitting in the corner of the dark living room when he walks in the house. All the lights are off, save for the old television acting as background noise and light with the volume turned low. Bree has her arms wrapped around her knees, mumbling softly to herself as she rocks back and forth. He kneels down in front of her and she looks up wildly, snapping her head up in fear. Bree relaxes when she sees that it's just him and gives him a saddened expression. Riley doesn't say anything because the color of her eyes speaks the truth. When he had left this morning to get more blood bags, they'd been black.

 _Red. Red. So much red. Blood_ — _!_

“I tried, Riley,” she whispers. Her crimson eyes bear into his before they flick away. “I tried to wait as long as you . . . wait until you came back but I just — I was just so hungry . . .”

Riley pulls the girl into his arms, embracing her carefully, unsure of how to comfort her.  “What'd you do, Bree?” he asks softly after a moment.

Bree trembles, a strange moan coming from her throat. She seems to be trying to cry and Riley strokes her hair gently and waits as Bree struggles to find the right words. “I . . . They came home early.”

Riley stiffens, lifting his head and turns to look behind him. Sure enough, lying near the kitchen, there's a man and a woman, their faces forever petrified in terror, their eyes seeing nothing but eternal darkness, their throats slashed, blood pooling out underneath them. How had he not smelled this before? He supposes that it's because he’s been so preoccupied with getting the blood bags for Bree and to making sure she is safe and okay that —

“I'm so sorry, Riley,” Bree sniffs, her hands holding onto his arm for support.

He wants to tell her that it's okay, but he knows that it isn't. She's not gaining control like she should. He'd thought that Bree was fine ever since the day on the mountain, that she'd gotten her urges under control like he had. He's been proven wrong. _Obviously._ He'd been so busy with pleasing Victoria and doing what _she_ wanted that he'd never taken into accountability about how Bree was doing.

“You're still learning. You've only been a vampire for two years, at most. It takes time,” Riley assures her. She pushes herself up, moving to sit across from him, her hands in her lap and shakes her head.

“That still doesn't make any excuses,” she says firmly.  “Look at me, Riley. I'm not doing any better than the first night you turned me.”

“Bree —”

“Please don't,” Bree interrupts. “I know what I did was wrong.” She's silent for a moment, her eyes drifting to the man and woman in the kitchen. “I'm already beating myself over it,” she continues softly, meeting Riley's eyes. She exhales deeply, her shoulders slumping with sadness and disappointment.

He knows that they can't stay shut in this town forever. Sooner or later, there will be more bodies arriving at the hospital and he can't have the authorities asking questions. Human teeth are distinctive; they never changed shape before or after he'd changed. If he keeps it up, the police will be wondering how a dead man’s teeth got on their victim.

“I'll tell you what. How about . . . you pick the next place this time?” Riley offers after a beat. “There must be some place you've been dy — wanting to go. Somewhere other than Seattle.”

Bree stares in confusion at this turn of events, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Well . . .” Bree smiles wistfully after considering her options. “How about Nevada?”

* * *

He remembers the words that shriek for answers during their time in Seattle. He’s seen the posters plastered and stapled around various lampposts and stores in the surrounding area, the ones that still demand answers; smelling his parents’ desperation crying across the empty streets, their loss and surges of fear, hoping they’d find him and bring him home — alive. Hoping that their baby boy was still safe and well.

He supposes that he could return home to Forks. He's thought about it a lot.

Victoria had told him they _could_ wear disguises, wear makeup and foundation to cover the glittering of their unnatural marble skins, wear contacts to conceal the unnatural burgundy ( _yellow, yellow, yellow!_ ) of their eyes. But eventually he knows that it wouldn't last forever. He would have to stock endless supplies and buy specific brands for him and Bree if they had chosen to stay. His parents would’ve asked questions if they found out what they were and he didn't want to hurt them. Authorities would be called and possibly the government and everything would be turned into a clusterfuck and then they'd be poked and prodded like lab experiments. _No way in fucking hell._

They didn't deserve to have a son who was a monster. Who could rip their throats out without a second thought, if he got mad at them, if they pissed him off.

_If._

_God fucking damn it._

No. He wouldn't do that. He would try but the monster inside would succumb anyway.

No.

He can't put his family and friends through that.

He stares at the poster with his Other face is inked on. A forever reminder of how he's been human once, tracing his fingers softly on the paper in front of him, reading the words at the bottom of the page, echoing over and over in his mind: _Riley, if you are reading this, please call home and let us know you are safe._

His smiling face stares back at him. _Who is he now compared to the boy in the photograph?_

Carefully he takes the poster down, folding it neatly between his fingers and tucks it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Bree says nothing and gives him a small smile of comfort as he glances toward her, sunglasses shielding their eyes. But he knows she understands.

He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder, taking her hand in his as they walk toward the waiting passengers in line for the bus. They board and head toward the last two seats in the back to where Riley keeps his bag between his feet and Bree closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder, draping his jacket over herself like a blanket. He has a metal thermos that conceals the blood inside and thirty blood bags in a resealable lunch bag that doubles as a cooler. That'll last them for a while. When they run out and the bus lets the passengers out for breaks, they pretend to eat as to not draw attention to themselves, vomiting the food in the toilets and drink more blood, not taking a lot, but not enough to satisfy their urges that long.

One day and six hours, they finally arrive in Las Vegas, Nevada.

How foolish he is to think that peace could ever last.

* * *

**LEAH**

* * *

 

When she was a child, her life didn't revolve around the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tales. Instead, they were surrounded by the legends and history of her tribe: The Quileutes. Everyone's heard the origin story of Qwati, who turned a pair of nearby _kwolis_ or wolves into humans on First Beach — the same beach where the Quileutes made a pact with the Cullen clan.

The same clan that brought that red-headed bitch and her army into her home, their territory and kickstarted her and Seth’s and Embry’s shapeshifting abilities. She's never forgiven them since. Death always followed wherever they went.

But now, she's returned home.

 _Thou shalt not kill our brothers and sisters,_ she thinks as she glances forlorning at a nearby wolf. She watches as the wolf darts into the woods, the car idling as she stares up at the Swan house in front of her. Leah sighs, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she gets out of the car, taking the key out of the ignition as she heads to get her bag from the back seat.

She could practically hear Jacob's orders ringing in the back of her mind and she never wanted anything more than to punch him in the face. But still, since he was now her and Seth's Alpha, she _had_ to obey as much as she didn't want to. After all, she is his beta, the second in command.

“Home sweet home,” she mutters aloud to herself.

She remembers the text she received earlier from her mom and lets herself in as quietly as she can, locking the door behind her. There's a pillow and a blanket ready for her on the couch and a note from her mom and Charlie lying on top.

**_There's a plate in the fridge if you're hungry. You can sleep in Bella’s old room for the rest of the weekend. Seth's at Embry’s and misses you a lot even though he won't admit it (ha ha). We'll see you in the morning!_ **

**_:)_ **

— **_Love, Mom and Charlie (and Seth!)_ **

She can't help but smile and sets her bag down gently, heading toward the kitchen, heating up one of Charlie’s infamous spaghetti meals along with her mom's homemade potato salad she knows Leah loves.

It's been so long since she's had a decent home cooked meal and she savors every bite of it.

She had left Forks immediately after the non-battle with the Volturi that never happened. She had wanted to get out once and for all and live life the way _she_ wanted to. A normal human life. Fuck the whole destiny talk everyone seemed to sprout. But the supernatural seemed to follow her everywhere and she couldn't seem to escape it. She hunted down the leeches that shed innocent blood and wreaked havoc. And she’s damn good at it. Probably the only thing she’ll ever be good at in her life, so everyone says. Killing leeches, saving people. _The typical Quileute business_ , Leah thinks as she finishes her meal.

Leah slings her bag over her shoulder as she gathers the pillow and blanket in her arms and heads upstairs. She can smell her mother and Charlie's scent in the master bedroom, hearing Charlie's soft snoring and her mother's gentle thrumming heartbeat in near synchronization with Charlie's. Together, the two seemed to create a calming melody to Leah's ears and she couldn't help but a genuine smile as she pauses to look at the closed door before she makes her way into Bella's room. The door closes with a soft click.

Immediately, Leah collapses into the bed, wrinkling her nose in slight disgust. Bella's scent still lingers but it's not as strong, which she can manage. Leah can tell she hasn't been here for months or years at the latest. She can smell Charlie's recent scent from earlier and the practical taste of air freshener on her tongue. But sleep drags her down and she's sinking into the fluffy blankets, her head lolling back with heaviness and —

_Screaming. There's so much screaming._

_The shrieks of two young dying girls linger heavily in the air and they pierce through Leah's heart and ears. She runs._

_She can smell the sickly sweet scent all leeches seem have and the fresh scent of spilled blood and death._

_She's too late to save them and in the distance, sirens begin to wail._

_She's chasing a black-haired Cold One, his age impossible to decipher. But if she had to guess, he'd be at least seventeen. Blood stains his lips and his teeth and down the front of his jacket and shirt. His scent reveals something particular and Leah can tell he's been recently turned. The way his body moves, jagged like a puppet, eyes flickering to every sound he hears, thirsting wildly for blood that will never seem to satisfy him._

_When he sees her, he cocks his head and lunges, a roar ripping ferociously through his teeth, red eyes crazed with bloodlust._

_She manages to avoid him in time and grabs him by his head with both hands, her knee rising up and connecting to his nose._

_She feels nothing but anger boiling in her lungs, snaking down into her core, taking over her. The black-haired boy lets out a pained yelp_ — _the unmistakable sound of a frightened teenage boy whose now been turned into a monster. A growl seeps through Leah's teeth and she knows the Shift is coming. Her body begins to shake uncontrollably._

_The boy looks confused but decides to take that chance to to slam his foot against her leg, snapping her bone and she screams in agony._

_She explodes. She's lifted up into the air for a brief moment before landing gracefully as a wolf. Fear spreads across the Cold One's face as he turns to run, obviously regretting his decision but she's too fast and it's too late now. The werewolf side of her takes over. Her paws pin his body to the ground as he wiggles frantically to get free and her jaws clamp around his head and she hates hates_ hates _that sweet sickly taste in her throat (oh God oh God oh God OH GOD!) She sinks her teeth in down, down, down until she hears the crunching of ice and his high-pitched keening and then he's gone._

_She throws the head to the side immediately in disgust, wanting the taste washed out of her mouth and drops to the ground, exhaustion overtaking her, the grey fur slipping off of her until she's completely and entirely nude._

_There's a cut in her forehead and her arm that's already begun to heal (when did she get those?), her shirt and jeans lying destroyed on the ground all around her. She ignores the pain on her broken leg, knowing her healing is kicking in, mending the bone. She grabs the nearest thing she can find, covering up her body and attempts to make her way down towards the hotel she's staying at as fast as she can_ — _but not before burning the pieces of the boy and her remainder of her clothes in the nearest lit trash can._

_She turns._

_Harry is there in front of her. “Dad?” What is he doing here? He shouldn’t be here. She reaches toward him and then his face goes slack before she realizes he has a hand sticking out of his chest. Harry falls and she screams. Behind him stands the red-headed vampiress. She remembers her from the time her old Pack chased her through La Push._

_The red hair was one of her most famous distinguishing features they know all too well._

_Victoria, Bella had called her._

_A devilish smirk crosses Victoria's face, her hand still slick and dripping with her father's blood. But when she speaks, it's not her voice but Leah's voice instead. “Look what you did.” Victoria’s lips curl and her red eyes drop down and Leah follows her gaze._

_Her own hands are covered with blood as she raises them toward her face. Below her, lie the bodies of Charlie, her mother and Seth. All life. All gone gone gone._

Because of you _, a nasty voice whispers._ Look in the mirror. This is who you really are.

 _“No. No. No. No. No.” She chants quickly in disbelief. She drops to her knees, closing her eyes._ It's not real _, she tells herself._

_It's not real._

_You're dreaming._

_Leah, wake up_

_Wak_ —

Leah jolts up, her body tangled in Bella's blankets, a gasping scream cut off before she realizes where she is, cramming her fist in her mouth. _Another fucking nightmare._

She's safe. Leah lets her eyes wander around, taking in Bella's room. She's safe. She's alive. There are no leeches to hunt tonight.

Her skin glistens with sweat as she wraps an arm around herself. “You’re okay, Leah,” she whispers to herself, taking her fist out of her mouth, letting it rest against her lips. “It’s just a nightmare. Just a stupid fucking nightmare.”

They’re alive, they’re alive, they’re alive. She repeats it to herself as a mantra as she lies back down. Above her, gently sways an old dreamcatcher on top of the headboard.

So much for catching her nightmares then. She lightly traces the feathers with her fingertips and quietly tries to practice some words in her native language that she can remember until she falls asleep.

_She's the Third Wife plunging her knife into her own flesh, defiance spreading inside her, like a candle being lit from its wick, courage flooding her. The beautiful Cold Woman made of stone turns to snaps her head to look; her untimely decision leads to her death as Taha Aki's jaws clamp around her, tearing her body apart._

_The Third Wife survives her wound and so will she._

* * *

 

“I swear I'll never forgive you for leaving me and Claire with Sam and Quil,” Seth tells her as they hug for the first time in almost three years. She playfully ruffles his hair in response and he ducks under her arms to avoid it, laughing. He grabs and chows down one of their mom's cheeseburgers in less than a minute. His hair's longer than the last time she's seen him, just reaching to his shoulders just like hers and his smile's just as cheerful as ever to brighten up her day.

She still feels bad knowing that she willingly left her baby brother with his jerk of an Alpha but Seth had told her he understood. Her mom and Charlie had promised to look after him after Sue decided to bring Charlie into the know. Although Sue had told Charlie only about the werewolves, Charlie had correctly guessed that there were vampires roaming around his hometown because they couldn't “ _have werewolves without vampires._ ”

It's been three years since Sam and Emily's wedding which she remembers as an absolute hell-fest; Renesmee looking like a barely-legal adult playing dress up and Charlie looking uncomfortable of the idea of Jacob imprinting on her and even _looking_ at her in the first place and Bella looking like she didn't want to be there, sticking to her friend, Angela Weber and her ex-boyfriend's side the whole time. Why those two were invited, no one knew. But never did Leah think in a million years she could _ever_ relate to Bella Swan.

Bella's changed since Leah's last seen her. Charlie explained that she was now pursuing college in Alaska, something that she had thrown away in her human lifetime. She had been naive, selfish and incredibly shallow and admitted that she wanted to become a vampire because of the whole Young and Beautiful Forever package.

_Fuck that._

Bella's never thought of the consequences and Leah still resents her for that.

Sue asks her if she's okay and Leah lies through her teeth, promising that she's all right. _Will_ she be all right? She doesn’t know but she hopes.

“Maybe you can talk to Jacob,” Sue is saying as she washes a pan in the sink and Leah realizes she's waiting for an answer, “about the, you know? Surely —”  
  
“It's not going to happen, Mom,” Leah replies, though she knows her mom is trying to comfort her. And that’s it. _Why why why why?_

Leah helps herself to one of her mom's famous cheeseburgers and notices that Seth is being usually quiet, looking out the window as they eat. Leah watches him curiously. This is not like her brother.

She hears footsteps coming down the stairs and sees Charlie. He gives her a grin when he sees her and gives her a hug. “Hey, Leah! Didn't hear you come in last night.”

“Yeah, I got here around midnight,” Leah replies. “Didn't want to disturb you guys.”

Charlie nods and pulls Sue into his lap, both smiling happily at each other before Charlie turns his attention back to Leah. “Where were you this time?”

“Boston,” Leah says, remembering the boy with the black hair from her dream. “I stepped in and took care of it. It was a teenage boy that was doing it. He couldn't have been more than sixteen. Newly turned.”

“You a police detective now?” Charlie teases.

Leah scoffs slightly. “I wish,” she tells him sarcastically. Her eyes flick to Seth's who meets her own and he gives an imperceptible shake of his head before she can ask, with him mouthing the word, _later_.

_What the hell? What the hell is going on, Seth?_

Seth opens his mouth and smiles instead. “Glad you're back, Lee.”

“Me too,” she says. It's sincere and she realizes just how much she's missed her family since she's left. _A lot._

__

Even though Charlie can't replace Harry, she does consider Charlie family. He's taken care of Seth and their mom since their dad's heart attack. He's made Sue happier and they'd gotten engaged while she'd been away. She'll always miss her father terribly and knows that there will be some part that would always miss him. Leah knows that Charlie isn't trying to replace Harry Clearwater, but sometimes she feels he would've made a better father than him. Harry had been strict and at first, had not accepted her being a shapeshifter. Resentment had resided inside the Clearwater household for several days before Leah had proved to Harry that she was worthy of having the ability to shapeshift into a wolf.

_I am worthy. I am worthy._

But sometimes she thinks she isn't. Why her, out of everyone here in Forks? Does the universe hold the answers she's been looking for? She doesn't know and has given up a long time ago.

“I'm gonna take a walk,” she blurts out suddenly. Leah stands, her hands on the table and gives Seth a look. _Come with me._ “Just to clear my head,” she continues and raises an eyebrow, “Seth, you wanna come?”

“Yeah!” he says in a chipper voice. A little too chipper but Sue and Charlie don't notice it despite his quick darting look towards them. “I wanna catch you up on everything. Okay, so there's like this whole new trick Jasper's been teaching me —”

Her brother begins his babbling for good measure and she can't help but roll her eyes ( _just like old times,_ she thinks) and then they both walk outside, promising to be back soon. That is, until duty calls. It's strange, not needing to have a jacket this time of year but they're both used to it now. The first months, she knows, have been the hardest.

_Her bones break._

_She screams._

_She explodes._

They decide to walk down the road from the house, twelve miles away from La Push but Leah's a bit tense and braces herself for the moment until Jacob calls. She'll need to obey and follow his orders.

She supposes it's better than having Sam in her head, mental images of Emily flashing through her mind and she wants to scratch her eyes out.

“So, spill,” Leah says, even they're both out of earshot and Seth finally stops talking. It's just a precaution; even though she knows that Charlie and Sue can't hear them, but better it's safe than sorry, she thinks. When confident that neither will stumble onto their argument or whatever it is, Leah turns her attention back to her brother.

Seth sighs and looks down at his feet, shuffling from one foot from the other before meeting her eyes. “Promise me you won't get mad, Leah.”

 _Why would I be mad?_ She forces herself to ask that question aloud, a million possibilities running through her mind and brings a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, why would I be mad?” Her brows pinch together in confusion as she waits for his response. “Are you . . . gay?

“What, no!” Seth quickly says incredulously, and then quickly corrects himself, “Well, bi.” And then it's Leah's turn to blink incredulously. She didn't see that coming but she's fine with it. She doesn't care who her brother dates. “But that's not the point.”

“You have five seconds or I'm going back to the house. _Spill._ ”

“Okay! Okay! Just . . . Give me a second, Leah,” Seth rushes on, his words coming faster out of his mouth as Leah raises her eyebrows, on the verge of leaving the road. “Okay, you remember that day on the mountain? When we were fighting Victoria?”

“You mean when _Wardo_ was fighting that red-headed leech?” Leah reminds him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Seth waves a hand dismissively. “Same thing. Sort of,” he counters. He takes a deep breath. “The other one got away but —”

 _“WHAT?!”_ Leah nearly screeches. She tones her voice down when a nearby neighbour checking the mail gives them a look and she pulls on Seth's arm, dragging them farther away. She hisses, “You let the other bloodsucker get away?!”

“It wasn't like that,” he quickly protests. “Edward told me after the battle that right before I attacked the other vampire, that he had turned against Victoria and he was leaving. I tore off his arm but I think he got it back. But that's not the point. I think I . . .  I think I _imprinted_ that day.”

 _Imprinted that day. Imprinted. That damned word. That fucking word._ Leah has seen what imprinting does. What it's done to her.

It takes Leah a second to process the last sentence he's said to her, forgetting momentarily about the other information he's dropped on her, about the other bloodsucker. “You think you imprinted that day?” she repeats, enunciating every word slowly.

He nods with uncertainty.

A heartbeat goes by. Truth is, she's never been a great comforter but she tries. “Oh, Seth.” Leah reaches out and hugs him. “Why wouldn't you tell me? I'm happy for you —”

“I know how you feel about it,” Seth tells her, his voice muffled by her hair as they release each other. “You know, the whole thing about you not knowing if you can imprint —”

“I don't care about that right now,” she says. But she does. It still bothers her not knowing. But this is Seth's burden and she wants to be there to listen. She slings an arm around his shoulder as they begin to walk back to the house. “So, what are they like? Boy or girl?”

Seth gives a small chuckle. “Well, um. I don't know.” He scratches his head. “I think it was one of the newborns that got away.”

“Wait, a leech?” She can't help but pause in her steps in disbelief. “Is that possible?”

Seth shrugs his shoulders. “Do I look like I know?” And Seth's contagious laugh and smile brings out a genuine laugh out of Leah for the first time in three years.

“But I think . . . someone besides the other vampire escaped. The one Victoria was with. I think he took someone with him when he left.”

“What do you mean?”

“This scent. The same scent. I - I came across it again. I've been racking my brain trying to figure out who it belongs to. I followed it through Seattle but sometime after that . . .”

 _The scent disappeared._ Whoever Seth imprinted on is long gone.

She sees Sam and Emily. Sam kissing Emily. Sam thinking about Emily. _Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily. Emily._ It's all about Emily now. It's like she never existed in the first place. Like _they_ never mattered. Like _they_ never happened and fell in love. But they did. She remembers. He might have forgotten but Leah can't forget the heartbreak and pain Sam caused her.

And now it's happening again. With her brother. _My brother imprinted on a vampire and I'm the only female werewolf who hasn't AMA,_ the next top Reddit post reads. It doesn't seem right, knowing that your other significant half could never leave your side, no matter what. She wonders if the imprinted or the imprintee could feel the other dying and whether the bond would break and sever once they _did_ die. What happens then?

Leah realizes she's been thinking for far too long and decides her next few words carefully. “I think . . . whoever it is, they're going to come back. They have to, I mean. People who've been imprinted on can't stay away from each other long.”

“Right,” Seth says. His face falls and he looks a little crestfallen. For a moment, she wonders if she's said the wrong thing. “You're okay though, right?”

“I'm fine,” Leah groans dramatically, grinning. “I'm happy for you. Really. Come on. Let's get some more cheeseburgers. You can tell me what you and Embry have been up to when I was gone.”

And she lets Seth talk and finds herself soaking in the happy memory as she watches her new family because she fears it won't last. When’s the last time the world let her settle down and let her breathe?

 _(And of course, she has to laugh because, of_ course _, it doesn’t. It never does.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Demetri reflects on his life in Volterra. Bree comes to an heartbreaking realization.


	2. Demetri | Bree

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

**DEMETRI**

* * *

_He's thirteen when he first gets a taste of bloodshed in his town. That never leaves and stains the roads with red, pooling under his feet._

_Mother tells him to come back safe and sound._

_Demetri promises he will. And he does. But that peace doesn't last when his mother is murdered right in front of him._

  _War has come to settle._

_(It lasts for more than a thousand years. His home is now gone, withered to ashes just like the rest of his people and his family though ruins still remain.)_

_He's seventeen when he finally tracks down who he's looking for. He feels the warm blood on his hands as he looks down into the eyes of the man who butchered his mother, his dark eyes wide and full of fear; the knife in his hand cuts through bone and Demetri has vengeance and fury lighting up in his eyes as the man struggles to breathe and watches until the light goes out of him. There's a “well-done” and a pat on the shoulder and Demetri throws up after the first time._

_He should've known he'd get acquaintanced to blood sooner or later._

_(Demetri's good at hunting people. Finding them. It's just in his blood, he realizes. Born to be a tracker, a hunter. And so that what he does. That's all he knows.)_

_He's twenty when he meets his first love._

_The fiery scorching heat of the sun beats on his back, his olive skin glistening with sweat as he slams the butt of his sword into the other young man he duels with. He attracts the attention of a young woman who watches with interest, a name that's long forgotten, but he remembers her lips, her smile, how her fingers liked to grip his back and hair, her body craving for more and she whispers his name like he's holy._ Dimitrios. Dimitrios. Dimitrios. _She comments on his light blue eyes_ — _a rarity in his family_ — _and those are the last words she speaks as he promises to see her again._

_He never gets the chance._

_She dies less than three weeks after he returns. He finds her body brutally raped and stabbed fifteen times over and he mourns and wails as he cradles her in his arms. Another victim. Another casualty of war and he grieves until there's no more room left in his heart._

_More women and men come and go but none of them steal his heart. He's learnt his lesson. He knows better than anyone and so he lets his heart turn to steel and war bleeds through his veins._

_He's twenty-five when he dies. He's dying. He knows it. A cocky and arrogant move has cost him his life and he's bleeding out, his blood seeping through his fingers when he realizes it._

_An arrow is his downfall. A_ fucking _arrow._

_His arm is nearly torn off by a sword, hanging on by the sheer threads of his mangled skin. He thinks his back is broken. He falls on the cold ground below him, tasting blood on his tongue. The dying wails of his fellow soldiers and horses ring in his ears and Demetri struggles to roll himself around so he can have some supplement of beauty before he goes. His eyes fixate on the stars above, his lungs feeling like they're about to collapse and then the war slowly dies down._

_He doesn’t know how long he's been here but the fires have almost gone out and the moans of the dying and injured have almost dissipated. Demetri mumbles:_ Συγχώρεσέ με για τις αμαρτίες μου _,_ _a last prayer of a sort to the God that is listening, his tongue slurring his words as he tries to focus his vision and he coughs and wheezes and blood speckles his lips. He hears a feeble “Help me” and then someone's screaming and as quickly as it comes, the screaming cuts off by the sound of bone cracking._

 _His heart thunders wildly in his chest and a face appears from the darkness, illuminated by a nearby flickering torch. The man's older than him and when he speaks, it's in a language he doesn't know. “Amun” stands out to him and when he smiles, his lips and teeth and chin are red with blood and then Demetri's a frightened young boy again and then he's screaming. The man has sunk his teeth into his neck, ripping past his skin and he can_ feel _him drinking and then he lets go. For a moment, Demetri thinks it's done. He can see her and his mother again. He allows himself to wait for the dark to overtake him so he can finally go and try for rebirth. But it never comes. Then the pain begins._

_The screaming never stops. At least not until he has to._

_Three days and nights later, Dimitrios Koteas is reborn._

* * *

Amun thinks they are Gods but Demetri knows better. No matter how much Amun loves the worship and the gifts and expects Demetri to, he knows better. Amun was once a shell of a man and there's no God living in him as far he knows. No, Amun is just a man; a man made of stone and has blood swirling throughout his veins just like dear old Demetri. As he watches Amun tears off an enemy vampire’s head for defying him, he realizes that even stone men can crumble.

 _Feed or you will die,_ Amun tells him. So he does. It takes a long time to get used to his bloodlust but he does it. It takes a long time to get used to the fact his skin is now white instead of olive and his blue eyes have now turned into a deep burgundy color. _(It's not until the Volturi comes that he learns he can feed without killing.)_ Amun teaches him Egyptian and in turn, Demetri teaches him Greek. It seems fair: after all, Amun is his maker and gave him new life.

It's two months later when Amun realizes he has a gift for tracking. They spend months training Demetri how to use it further. For a while, they are family. For a while, they are father and son. For a while, he is happy and he never wants to leave. _You are special,_ Amun tells him. _The Volturi, they will come for us and destroy us both._

And come they do. The man now called Aro offers him a choice to join their coven and so Demetri gladly agrees. Amun has lied to him about the sun, broken the rules and herded the humans like cattle. Amun is just using him as a weapon to overthrow his enemies. He does not worship this false God, even if he is his maker. Death may not touch his maker now as Amun gives Demetri a pained look of fury and betrayal before he flees as Aro lets him go.

He learns Italian with more difficulty than he thinks from Aro and his brothers, then English until the words flow off fluently off his lips but Greek will always be his mother tongue, a part of him and he keeps it close to his heart so he won’t forget.

He becomes friends with Felix, though patience is not one of his Felix’s virtues. _(“Dimitrios?” he asks, clearly amused. “Think I’ll call you Demetri.” Demetri’s never thought about it, but he agrees it’s time for a change. Demetri, it is then.)_

Felix teaches him some new tricks he’s learned from his own portion of war, having rose up to the ranks of a soldier in his human life. With Felix’s huge stature and both of their shared histories of battles and war, Aro appoints them as Guards for the Volturi. A few centuries pass and the rumors of Aro wanting a pair of witch-twins named Iohanna and Alexander, to join their covens spreads. There’s outrage from Caius and a few others. Demetri knows all too well what happens to immortal children. He’s seen it four times before the creation of the young child Vasilli and remembers the night he tore off Aleksandra’s head and hearing the Denali sisters’ mournful wails. But Aro promises to wait until the twins are of age, reaching adolescent. And he does. They’re burning at the stake when they come to retrieve them and he can hear young Iohanna’s terrible screams as her brother Alexander, locks his jaw struggling not to scream but in the end, he does. _(They always do and years later, the witch-twins decide to modernize their names to Alec and Jane respectively._ )

Jane takes after Caius’ sadist personality while her brother is the most quieter of the two and the antidote to her tempers. The calm before the storm and the two become the most feared of the Volturi and both Demetri and Felix fall to the bottom. Soon hereafter, the Egyptian Coven falls and then the Romanians and then the Chinese. They’re there for it all. Within them, they carry the blood of thousands. He's tried to drink animal blood like Saint Carlisle, but he's found he can't track someone as well as he's done on human blood. He's been too accustomed to it and he's not as strong on the animal diet as he should be, much to Felix's disapproval.

 _You've found your home in us,_ Chelsea croons. _This is what you're meant for._ But he can feel the tight bond wrapped around the back of his mind, urging — no, _encouraging_ — him to stay, stay, _stay_ , and his loyalty to the Volturi remains as strong as ever and Chelsea smiles like nothing is happening and he realizes, he can't leave even if he wanted to.

The greatest tracker in the world and he'll find anybody who doesn't want to be found, except beyond the veil of death. Someone even greater would have to replace him just like he has done before with the previous tracker. He would never be able to leave.

He stays. He knows nothing better. Better than to go back to Amun and his deceiving lies and his worshippers. He's used him.

Demetri tries to hold on to his humanity while the rest don’t hold back. Do kindness. _Do the right thing,_ his mother’s voice whispers. He helps the last of the Children of the Moon escape to the New World to avoid the wrath of Caius’ extermination. Thousand of wolves slaughtered and he can still remember the smell and the mournful howls into the night. It never seems to end. A endless recycle of repeat and them, the humans, the vampires, the werewolves, they will never learn, will they? _(They won't. They know nothing better.)_

“You all right, handsome?” Heidi asks as she makes sure both Felix and Demetri are presentable for the rest of the night before they switch their shifts to the next round of the Guards. She offers him a bright smile and she knows something is wrong when he doesn’t return it. One of his old wounds on his left arm flares up again and he presses his arm behind his back, clenching his fist as he straightens himself, meeting Felix’s concerned gaze and he twitches his neck uncomfortably. _(A flash of a face. A scent of roses. Laughter.)_

“Είμαι καλά, αγάπη.” _I’m fine, love._ But Demetri realizes that he’s said it in Greek and not Italian and when Heidi’s face falls and she leans forward to plant a kiss on his cheek, that’s when Demetri knows undoubtedly he’s _not_ fine at all.

 _Your tell-tale_ , Heidi once told him. _You could never lie to me._

“You want me to come visit you tonight?” she asks and he nods. One of the things he loves about Heidi: she always seemed to know what was going on in his mind better than him.

The taste of a single flavor burns into the back of his mind and he can smell it, practically taste it on his tongue and he wants, wants, _wants_ it oh, so dearly. Heidi moves quickly away from Demetri as Aro calls for a council, the first since the Cullen’s spectacle three years ago. The urge to _track_ is rising and his mind is _screaming_ and he can _feel_ it coming, whatever Aro wants him to do. He’s so tired of it all: the missions, the scouting, the feeding, the tracking, the _killing_ . That’s what he tells himself, at least. He thinks that somewhat he likes, no, _revels_ in the killings, just like his old human self. He barely listens as Aro goes on about Joham and the half-breed and --

(Please, _Valentina pleads, her hands gripping his shoulders._ Turn me. Turn me! You promised! _And then she’s furious and angry that she won’t get her wish like she’s been promised by him or the others like so many before her, slapping at him, tears streaming down her beautiful face._ Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

 _Like it isn’t him, he watches as he grabs her arm, his patience tested and wrenches her aside as soon as she realizes her dreadful mistake, turning to run when she sees the fury in his black eyes. He hears as she slams her head into the statue with a_ crack _and turns his head just in time to see her fall to the floor, blood trickling from her head wound from his throw._

 _Hunger gets the best of him and he pulls her nearly lifeless body toward him with one hand and lowers his lips to her neck and_ drinks _. So much blood. His hunger fills him with pleasure. He wants more. More. More._ More.

Such a shame, _Aro says._ They never last.)

“I do believe our dear Bella is owed a visit. Demetri?”

“Yes, master,” he replies and nods once to show he has heard and understood. They have no need for him to lead this time. Joham and his four children haven’t moved from the same place they’ve settled in centuries ago: South America. Besides, the foolish Cullen boy —  Edward — and his family have mistakenly believed that Demetri wouldn’t have been able to find them behind Bella’s shield. He finds _everyone_.

 ~~ _Track._~~ _Seek. Observe. Report._ That’s the routine he’s done for the past thousand years. So why should he fail now?

* * *

Heidi comes later in the night in his chambers as she's promised. There's an entanglement of their limbs pressing tightly together, her fingers holding onto his neck, his hands hooking her legs against his hips as he thrusts deeper and listens to Heidi's moans of pleasure to confirm at the very least, he's doing _something_ right.

“You should drink,” Heidi tells him when they're finished. He tugs on his pants and shoes as she trails a finger down his spine and for a moment, he thinks he can feel the human-like shiver before it vanishes as quickly as it came. “I'm bringing the last round tonight. Drink before you leave, Dem. Yes?”

“I will,” he promises. He presses his lips to her cheek quickly and she smiles as he says, “Thank you for all the fun.”  They know they'll never be anything more than friends with benefits and that's how he prefers it. Besides, two attractive single vampires in the Guard? They're bound to get lonely at some point.  
  
Demetri helps her slide on the red dress she loves so much. "Wear little, get a lot," she reminds him and that's the truth. She's the fisherman but also the bait. She helps keep the family fed. Heidi pulls his shirt over his shoulders, adjusting the turtleneck around his neck. Flipping her curled mahogany hair over her shoulders, Heidi grins, patting his cheek playfully. “You and your scarves. I will never understand.”

Demetri shrugs on one of his black coats over his shoulders, buttoning himself up and offers her a knowing smirk. “One of my many secrets, Heidi. Only Aro knows.”

“You’re coming back, yes?”

There’s a small purse of her lips, a slight downward twitch of her brows as she waits for his answer. It’s only a split second of hesitation befalling on him before he opens his lips and speaks. Heidi doesn’t notice it. After all, he has had a long time to practice his theatricals longer than her.  “Of course. I always do.” _Where else can I go?_ _What else can I do?_ And with that, he smiles politely, presses her a kiss to her hand and promises to be safe and to drink before he leaves and heads downstairs to prepare for his journey.

Thousands of thoughts brush past his mind as several of the Guard make their way to their respective positions, waiting for Heidi’s last round of dinner for the night, several voices ringing in his mind as they walk past him. _No, not them_ , Demetri tells himself. His mind goes quiet until he can only hear his own footsteps echoing down the hall down the stairs leading into the chattering room of humans waiting for their chance at a relaxing moment in their long vacations. Chelsea sees him as he pushes through the doors as she glances away from her customer and waves her hand, holding up four fingers. He heads toward the shielded adjacent rooms, knocking softly on the fourth door.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asks the vampire who answers.

She smiles, nodding, recognizing him for who he is and steps aside for another customer waiting for a massage. The woman in question he’s about to feed off of has green goop covering her face, her eyes closed, a margarita glass held in one hand. He gently picks up the woman’s wrist, flames bursting in his throat and carefully drinks without popping his fangs. The woman is unfazed, still going on about her vacation in Italy — _Have you seen the_ _Colosseum?_ _My god, it is_ sooo _divine —_ a combination of Aro’s and Heidi’s powers filling and replacing the memories of him feeding on her. He listens to her politely, her thoughts ringing in his ears and the people she’s met logging into a checkpoint in his brain, not that he would have any need to find them in the near future. She knows nobody of pure importance and her rising heartbeat floods his ears and her blood tastes so good, so good, so good, his hand grips her wrist tighter and his fangs threaten to pop —

_Stop. Stop. Stop. STOP!_

“Demetri.” It’s Chelsea, a warning urged in her voice from outside the room. His eyes snap open. Her voice drops to a bare hiss only he and the other vampires can hear. “You’ve had enough.”

His lips pull away and he wipes away the blood with a nearby napkin. He asks, “Are you all right?” but the woman doesn’t respond, her eyes slightly unfocused and she’s already forgotten the feeding, continuing on with her story like nothing happened. He wraps her wrist with the proper materials, watching as red begins to bleed through the white gauze. Demetri bids her a goodbye as he leaves, feeling several gazes on him as he walks into the spa, refusing to meet Chelsea's disapproving eyes as he holds his head high and his body tall and lean and mighty like nothing reckless has happened a few seconds ago. But it almost did. _What is happening to me?_

A few mortal women giggle and wave flirtatiously toward him as he passes them and he gives them a wink that is sure to make their hearts flutter and swoon. But his walk is brisk and the only thing he carries with him is his passport, disposable phone and wallet in his pockets.

No doubt that Chelsea will tell Aro about this after he leaves. He knows she means well but Demetri doesn’t want to have Aro touch his hand and hear his most recent thoughts in his head right now. The vampire is stopped once in his tracks by a familiar rasping voice he knows at once.

“Dimitrios.”

It’s Marcus. The elder vampire’s face remains as unchanged as ever, as he approaches from the shadows; Demetri swears on his non-existent soul he’s only seen him smile once during his time here. Depression has existed back in the day when he was born and it continues to still be a menace amongst the living and dead alike. Marcus can attest to that.

“Saint Marcus.” The younger vampire stands tall, wondering why Marcus is wanting to talk to him at this time, why him now, why ever? And then he remembers and thinks an vulgar human-like thought: _Fuck._ “How may I serve you, master?”

 _Master._ A word he despises. ( ~~Still a slave even to this day.~~ )

His hands are clasped behind his back, awaiting any new orders. _Dimitrios_. A long lost feeling of centuries worth of nostalgia floods him. It must be something serious, given that Marcus has called him by his birth name.

“Child . . .” Marcus drones slowly. He walks closer, face shrouded in his dark curtain of hair, his black cloak wrapped around his shoulders. His hands are outstretched slightly, his thin fingers seemingly holding onto an invisible string only he can See. “Your loyalty wavers.”

Fear grips him like a vice and for the first time in centuries, Demetri is afraid. He’ll be replaced, he’ll be killed, he’ll be —

He’ll cease to exist. He’ll be _nothing_.

Demetri opens his mouth to plead his case but Marcus holds up a hand. “Don’t fret, child. Your loyalty is not of my concern. Aro will not replace you, that I know.” He can practically sense a _there’s no one better than you_ on his sentence _._ At least he’ll always hold that title after a thousand centuries, even after death. Marcus walks closer, still inspecting the string he can See as he crooks a finger, his eyes finally meeting the younger vampire’s. “Caius would disagree on the other hand. Aro would not want me telling you this. I fear I must. The allies of the Cullens — the shapeshifters. There is a bond I See, tethering you. It waits for you. A way out. _Take it._ ”

“I do not understand,” Demetri tells Marcus and wants to scream, _I am not a child_. But in the Elders’ eyes, he might as well be.

Marcus dips his head slightly, his expression seemingly apologetic. “I apologize, dear Dimitrios. I can not say any more. I bid you well on your journey. Send my regards to Mrs. Cullen, will you?”

And with that, Marcus disappears into the shadows, leaving Demetri doubting himself if he even was there at all to begin with.

* * *

**BREE**

* * *

It’s been almost twelve years since she’s last stepped foot in her childhood home in Nevada. She can remember the heat from the days, feel the warm sun on her pale skin, remember the toys her mother gave her when she was little . . . before she left.

It’s rotted away now like the rest of her memories, abandoned and left alone for years. The house — well, trailer —  is still left and frozen in the pristine time of 1994, the moment they left and never came back. She thumbs through the old faded and illegible mail, turning her head as she walks slowly through the small kitchen toward her bedroom. There’s two old empty bowls laid out on the table, the refrigerator either stolen or sold in a thrift shop and an old unplugged television with a VCR still lying in the living room with a moth-eaten green couch. Nothing here smells like the home she remembers.

Riley stays quiet, watching her but saying nothing, one hand letting his backpack dangle to the floor and lurks silently in the background, following her steps closely behind while on the lookout for any other vampires who might happen upon them. There's rustling sound from behind but she pays no mind to it.

Her room is untouched, her silly crayon drawings still taped to the walls or laying in dust on the floor and her old clothes are still hung in the closet, one faded blue dress still left untouched.

She pauses outside her parents’ room. She doesn't remember anything as much as she _wants_ to. Everything's so muffled and distant and _blurred_. She remembers Diego telling her the same thing — beautiful, handsome, brilliant Diego. Bitten before his time by Victoria. He hasn't returned to her like he's promised and she knows deep down inside her cold soul, he's dead. He's dead and he won't ever come back. So she turns and walks away, making her way down the hall to where Riley is. She feels the rough wallpaper underneath her fingertips, trying to collect her thoughts, her eyes downcast and lowered to the ground.

If she was human, a rising bubble of bile would be crawling up her throat and she'd have tears streaming down her face. She'd be a puddle on the floor, trying to solidify herself into the defenseless and weak girl she was, trying to catch her breath. But Bree Tanner is no longer any of those things.

Bree Tanner is dead.

Bree Tanner is forever sixteen.

Bree Tanner is a vampire.

But a human-like gesture from her human life long ago takes a hold of her crystallized lungs and _squeezes_ it and she gasps — a shuddering gasp as the one question she's always wanted to know rises from her lips. She smells Riley in front of her and knows he has to stay. Fred is gone, along with Steve and Shelley (God knows where) and their maker is dead and burned and turned to ashes just like the rest of her coven mates.

They are all each other has left. They have nowhere to go and no one else to trust.

She raises her head to face him. His chin lifts up slightly, his gaze never moving away from hers. She notices his fingers tightening on the strap he's holding and his favorite jacket is hanging from one of the chairs he's placed it on. “Did you kill him?” she asks. “Was it you?”

“No,” he says finally and she can't help but feel a little relieved. “It was …  Victoria.”

“Why?” It's barely a whisper but she manages to push it past her tongue. Her heart demands an answer and throbs and _aches_ but she knows. It was the gift he'd given to her. But she needs confirmation. She needs to hear it from Riley before she does something reckless and goes back to their hiding place two years ago and uses her venom to stitch Diego back together. They can run away this time. They can —

“He found about the sun.” And her heart shatters. His gift to her had been his downfall.

“You just … stood there and _did nothing_ .” It's ice on her lips as she practically hurls the words at him and she can see the pain in his eyes and the _regret_ and the human inside of him flinches before he settles back into a statue.

“I did,” he admits. The jawline on his smooth and perfect skin clenches and she can hear the grinding of it and it hurts her ears and she tries to focus on something else. “I was _weak_.”

They're not anymore. But they're not invincible either.

“I should've told you,” Riley continues. He pauses and his red eyes flicker with uncertainty. “I'm not asking you to forgive me because I know you never will. But I am _truly_ and deeply sorry. It's one of my regrets. Diego …”

The brunette then realizes that she's practically holding her fingers tight against her palms, balled up into fists. Her body is on the verge of pouncing, her teeth locking into a hiss. She needs to grieve. She wants to go hide and mourn and _cry_ but vengeance calls to her. Anger pools through her dead veins, rushing through her body, adrenaline snaking into her bones. She trembles. Riley — he did this to her. He's killed her Diego. He's killed _her_.

“He didn't deserve it.”

Bree snaps. A look of resignation quickly crosses over his face as she launches toward him. The blood bag drops from his fingers with a resonant thud as she grabs his shirt, pulls him toward her and flings Riley to the ground. She leaps on top of him, slamming his head against the floor repeatedly.

“You killed me!”

_Crack._

“You killed  _him_!”

_Crack._

“You could've — done something!”

_Crack._

The young vampire is swiping with her hands, a string of _I hate you’s_ pouring through her lips. Why isn't he fighting back? _Fight back! Fight back! FIGHT BACK!_

Bree pauses, confusion surging through her as her rage begins to die down as quickly as it appears. Horror rises as she sees the cracks on his face and seeing the crystal jagged stump of his right shoulder … holy _shit_ , she's torn off one of his arms. His eyes are wide as he stares up at her, his untouched hand wrapped around one of her arms but at the same time, he doesn't seem to be trying to stop her.

_Why?_

“It's okay,” he tells her, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don't have to stop.” An unspoken _I deserve it_ lingers heavily in the air.

But Bree remembers that Riley didn't deserve it too. He had been predictive in his human routine as a college student and that had easily made him a target and that had cost him his life. He'd been much as a pawn to Victoria as the rest of them. He'd been the first.

“I'm sorry,” she croaks out, scrambling off of him, flinging her body against the furthest wall as she wraps her arms around her legs. “I'm so sorry.”

She tries to make herself small as she can before Riley turns his hand on her, before he screams at her, _You stupid worthless bitch!_ and the memory of a glass being thrown at her by her father’s hand makes her flinch as she struggles to calm down. But Riley does none of those things.

Riley sits up, piecing his arm back to his socket after he licks it with his venom. The cracks on his face have disappeared and a small pained hiss escapes through his lips as his torn limb stitches back to his body properly. He rolls his shoulder back several times and flexes his arm to make sure it works and then turns his eyes on her.

Bree can’t move. She feels it’s the first night all over again and she’s thrown into the dark memory so vivid and clear, desperation and hunger crawling in her stomach and her clothes and body dirty from homelessness. Then the tenth, the fifteen day have passed, she doesn’t know, and _he_ comes along. Bree thinks he would've asked her for a favor like the others before her— sex, a blowjob, _anything_ — and she would’ve given her virginity to him willingly as fucked up as it was as much as she turned her nose at the idea before. But she was desperate. And a desperate teenage girl would’ve done anything to get a decent bed and a good night’s sleep and not have to eat the trash for once. _Want a burger, kid?_

He crosses over to her, the floor creaking under his weight. By now, she knows the pace and the tempo of his footsteps by heart, the way he favors his left leg from his right. His hand is outstretched to her and he waits, her eyes meeting his as she slowly lifts her head up. If she could, she would be trying to hold back her tears now.

“I hate you,” she tells him, putting all of her anger and pain into those three words to convince herself. She tells herself this. She hates him, she hates him, she _hates_ him, and he tolerates her. That's what she tells herself at least. ( ~~ _But four years can change a lot._~~ )

Riley nods slowly. There’s a hint of an emotion on his face she can’t identify. “I know.” He pulls back his hand instead and reaches into his pocket, a piece of paper rustling in his fingers. He hesitates for a long time, a lot longer than necessary before he hands it to her. “I found this earlier. On the table by the television.”

It’s a newspaper clipping. Dated a few months after her disappearance, when she had ran away from home. **_BODY FOUND IN DESERT,_ ** the headline screams. She scans over the words until she stops at a familiar name and if she were human, her heart would've stopped. Her mother. Her mother . . . is dead. No, she’d been found _murdered_ . Her father . . . he’s done the unspeakable. Bludgeoned her mother to death in an alcoholic and violent frenzy just because she had wanted to leave. And then she remembers. _Oh, God._

It’s hard to see through the mud-covered film through her human eyes, but she can barely see her mother coming into her room, shutting the door as quickly as she can, panic etched on her face. She dashes toward her and says something but Bree can’t remember what it is. She sees her father slam the door open and grab her mother away from her bed by the hair and they’re screaming at each other before her father raises the bottle in his hand and slams her head with it. Blood splatters on her face as her mother falls and the memory goes fuzzy  —

Horror builds inside of her again and she's shaking and trembling again. “I remember. I - I - I —”

She struggles to get the words out, to explain, to recall the horrible memory clearly, but she can’t. And the grief overwhelms her like a wave. It comes in twos, one for Diego and one for her mother and strange _gasping_ sobs come pouring out of her lungs and she doesn’t care anymore. She reaches up and throws her shaking arms around Riley and he stumbles unexpectedly to the ground because of it and drags them both down to the floor and she _needs_ it, _needs_ the comfort of someone caring for her and he _has_ for the last three years and everything’s so undeniably _fucked_ up but she _needs_ it right now.

All the pain and the beatings and the hurt and the abuse and the loneliness accumulated over the years come pouring out and she wants so hard to fucking _cry_ but she can’t, she can’t, she _can’t_. So she lets the mourning wails come out of her tiny dead body and drench the whole room in it.

Riley has his arms around her, one hand on top of her head, stroking her hair with his fingers. He whispers, _“It's okay”_ over and over again to soothe her but it doesn’t work as much as she wants it to. But she allows herself to cry in the arms of one of her killers and let him hold her for as long as she needs to.

She keeps her eyes closed as Riley picks her up gently like she's a doll and carries her to the couch. The brunette feels a blanket being brushed against her skin and pulls it closer to her body and she can smell her mother's perfume.

At least as a human, she could relieve some of the pain. A cut on the wrist here and there. A punch. But the pain still stays in her as a vampire and she can't help but laugh deliriously. It dies as quickly as it comes as she covers her head with the blanket.

The blanket can shield her from the world. The world is dark and angry and cruel and it tears its wrath into her as punishment. As long as she stays underneath there, she can be safe. She can be safe and shielded from any dangers and for a moment, she can pretend to be alive again. But she knows she'll have to surface sooner or later.

The wood floor creaks and she counts Riley's footsteps — _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine_ — and hears the soft scraping of his fingers against the armrest near her head and the blanket. He leaves and she counts his footsteps again until she reaches twenty. Probably making himself at home by the window.

She snakes her hand out from underneath the blanket and searches around until she feels the familiar cool plastic underneath her fingers. _Blood!_ her mind cries out greedily and Bree pulls her hand back as quickly as she can, tearing open the bag and gulping down its contents. Dead blood is better than no blood. It isn't satisfying as live, pumping blood but she supposes it's better than the alternative and well, the _other_ alternative.

She remembers hearing of gold. Golden eyes, Riley had told her coven. _Animal blood._

In the first months of her newborn life, that idea has never been an option. It was always killing, killing, killing, and then disposing of the bodies and then more killing. A never-ending cycle.

She had asked Riley about it. She had wanted to try.

 _“Have you tried? Or just gone by … her words?” Bree’s careful not to say_ her _name and watches his face fall. So he hasn’t._

_“It’ll make us weaker,” he tries again. But then he gives in and for the first time, they spend the night hunting deer. The deer is caught by Riley and he breaks its neck before the feeding begins. She can see it hurts him to kill an animal and she thinks she wouldn't be able to do it too. But together, they lower their mouths to drink._

_The moment it hits her tongue, it's foul. Bitter and she gags in disgust but tries again. All she can taste is bitterness and not the normal copper she's normally accustomed to. She gives up and in turn, watches Riley, hoping perhaps he can persuade her. Riley coughs but forces himself for another round but the blood gives out in his stomach and he vomits up the deer's blood, the dark red staining his chin._

_A moment passes. And then Riley speaks._

_“Fuck, that's gross.”_

She remembers _wanting_ to like animal blood. She had practically willed herself to, willed herself to become something else than a monster who fed off human beings. A monster who so cruelly disposed of bodies in the ocean with Diego just to not make another scene. She can hear Riley screaming at them, _What did I say about a low profile?!_ when the others slipped up and he had lost his temper. And oh, his wrath was undeniably scary. She can attest to that herself as she remembers him tearing off one of her coven mates’ arms.

Both Bree and Riley had tried again and again with animal blood over the course of those two weeks. But it was so foul, bitter and _disgusting_ and got cold so easily she had to wonder how the hell the Yellow Eyes did it. She envied them for their new diet. No doubt by now, the Yellow Eyes had turned their pet into one of them now. A shame, really. Bree thinks if they'd just got to the Yellow Eyes’ pet when they had the chance, her blood lust would be satisfied by now as fucked up as the thought was.

The brunette pulls the blood bag away from her lips as soon as it's empty and tries to savor in its contents and taste, willing it to last until the next time she has to feed. She prays it'll last her long enough and she won't snap and kill anyone else like the couple who came home earlier than anticipated. She returns the empty bag where Riley had laid it and covers her head once again.

She thinks about the others and wonders how Steve and Shelley and Fred are doing and whether they're still alive. She hopes that they are. She hopes at the least, they'll somehow run into each other. But that's wishful thinking, she knows. Anyone with brains can see that it's best not to feed on another vampire's hunting grounds, especially ones like the Cullens that have magic in their bones.

So Bree pretends to dream this night. She pretends that she can sleep like a human and thinks about Diego and her mom and listens to Riley's soft _creak-creak-creak_ of the chair he's on, a human behavior he keeps. It seems at the least, if she has to guess, he's thinking about his family back in Forks. A tiny tether to humanity still boils inside them and she supposes it's for the best instead of turning into the bloodthirsty creatures they are deep inside.

Better than have some supplement of humanity left … than none at all.

* * *

 **NEXT UP:** Demetri pays dear young Isabella Swan and the Cullen clan an owed visit. Leah gets ready for the Swan-Clearwater wedding rehearsal dinner at La Push.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please feel free to leave me some criticism or suggestions! :)

 


	3. Demetri | Leah

**CHAPTER THREE**

**DEMETRI**

* * *

 

In Port Angeles, the Bella Italia is nestled on First Street, surrounded by the curtains of shopping malls and homes in its backyard. Somewhere old Demetri wouldn't have given two fucks about while tracking a certain vampire here, but well, he figures it shouldn't have been much of a surprise in the first place.

“Anything for you, honey?” The waitress’ name-tag reads  _ Amber  _ as she gives him a flirtatious smile.

He puts on his best polite smile, motioning outward with his hand. “No, thank you.” 

The waitress nods in understanding but not before shooting a wink toward his companion on the other chair across from him.

Demetri slides his hands over his warm mug of cocoa — a necessary he doesn't need, but to help blend in with the other six patrons in the restaurant. He pretends that it can warm his bones as he listens to the story being told.

He takes a sip as he watches as the woman’s fingers trace over a mark on her right wrist. A bite mark lined with silver tracing part-way to her veins before they disappear from sight. A familiar sight he knows all too well on his own.

“He was a tracker named James,” she continues, offering him an explanation with a slight sad smile — though she has no need to. “He was always with this other man named Laurent and Victoria —”

“Sutherland,” he finishes. “Red hair, yes?”

Isabella meets his eyes curiously and nods.

“I knew of her. One of her coven members, Heidi, is a part of our Guard. A sister of a sort.” Demetri’s heart sinks at the thought of Heidi. She had been wondering what had happened to her former coven mate for centuries. He doesn't know if he'll be able to tell her this time when he returns home.

_ If. _

_ If you decide to return home. _

He doesn't tell Isabella of the other thing — the one where he followed the witch-twins and Felix to Seattle towards Victoria's hideout and instructed her and her newborn “mate” to eradicate the Olympic Coven under Jane's orders. He took no shame in that.

“I didn't know she had a sister,” Isabella says quietly.  _ Or a last name _ , the words revealing themselves to Demetri. She carefully picks at a stray thread on her flannel sleeve and looks down at the table again. He knows she must be trying to figure out the reason why he is here and Demetri can see her hazy thoughts behind her shield.

_ I need to call Edward — _

_ Get Renesmee to safety — _

_ Why is he here? We haven't done anything wrong — _

Demetri fights the urge to scoff. Of course, the young vampire thinks her family hasn't. _ (No one ever thinks they've done any wrong.) _

“There are a lot of things you don't know, Mrs. Cullen,” he tells her. Demetri takes a short dramatic pause and reaches out and settles a hand on Edward's mate, smirking at the thought of a furious Edward ranting about the fact that Demetri had touched his  _ precious _ Isabella.

“You have no need to fear, Isabella. This is only a routine check up.”

Having learned about the events that occurred in Alice’s vision, that Edward Cullen is the reason for his demise, he loves the simple thought of riling up the younger boy. Edward Cullen, a simple mind reader, barely a hundred years old, takes  _ him _ , the great Dimitrios Koteas down?

_ Impossible. _

Another reason why Demetri despises Edward Cullen. The boy had told a human about the existence of vampires and suffered no consequences for it.  _ And Jasper Hale,  _ the back of his mind reminds him.  _ He’s dangerous, also. Responsible for the countless slaughter of humans in Mexico with his sire, Maria. _

It's quiet, save for the humans’ chatter in the restaurant and Demetri lets their conversations tune into his mind as Isabella withdraws her hand from his before she decides to drop a particular bomb.

“I have nothing to do with them anymore. The Cullens.”

Demetri raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” He figures they were inseparable at the hip and her thoughts and body language provide the truth.

“We're taking a break,” she tells him, her shoulders slumping, her thoughts racing. “This life … it's not what I thought it was. Me and Edward … we don't know each other like I thought. So … we're taking some time apart.”

He knows a stall when he sees it. But he lets her finish before he says with a hint of melodrama, “I apologize. And the child? Renesmee? How is she faring with all of this?”

_ Renesmee. _ A ridiculous name, really and he almost feels sorry for the poor child who has to be saddled with it. He had laughed the first Aro said it and thought the name had been a joke. Apparently, it wasn't.

_ There! _ Her shield falters at the mention of her daughter and he sees the information he needs.

_ Can you feel me _ ? he thinks.

Isabella doesn't seem to notice and he takes that as confirmation that it is.  _ Good. _ He slithers past her thoughts and returns back to his own as her shield strengthens and tightens.

Finally, she says, “She's Elizabeth now. Says she wants to blend in in high school. Jake still calls her Nessie though. And she's doing everything a typical teenage girl could want.”

Demetri remembers the small girl with curly hair to her waist, seemingly tethered to Isabella's side. He had been ready to attack if necessary. But then Aro had decided she was no threat. Would the halfbreed be clinging to her imprint now if he'd visited the rest of her family now?

“And you?” Demetri asks genuinely before taking another sip of his cocoa.

“Figured why not try college this time? Might try for an English degree. Be a teacher like I've always wanted in my human life.”

The two share a smile and for a while, they are two normal strangers having a conversation, not enemies. Then, Demetri sees yellow threatening to burn through the brown contacts in Isabella's eyes and remembers his mission.

“If I may, where might I find the rest of your family? Just so I can finish my report and return home as soon as possible to put Aro's mind at ease. Are they at home?”

The tracker already knows where they are but anything to put dear Isabella's mind at rest.  _ Make yourself trustworthy. _

Demetri can see Isabella's mind wheeling and knows she considers lying before she thinks the best of it. Lying has never been one of her best traits even in her human life, he can tell. Fear splits through her eyes before it vanishes.

_ Oh, Isabella. Isabella. Isabella. How long did you think you were going to keep this from me? _

The brunette sighs. “La Push Road. Billy Black's place. For the rehearsal wedding.”

Demetri downs the rest of his mug, runs his tongue over his teeth and smiles, clearly amused. “Of course they are.”

* * *

**LEAH**

* * *

_ It's official _ , Leah thinks.  _ Everyone has lost their damn minds. _

There is absolutely no way she is going to let this bloodsucker from Italy ruin her mom's rehearsal dinner. She's heard of him. He's the tracker. The one Wardo hates.

_ Interesting company you keep. _

The leech has never shown up for a routine check up unlike the others before. Why now? The tracker is up to something, she can feel it.

Sue's given her one of Rachel's old dresses to wear tonight. It's soft forest green, a little larger than they both expected but with a little help from Claire, the dress manages to fit perfectly on Leah's body.

It's something she won't really miss if she decides to fursplode everywhere. Which she hopes she won't have to, if that damn leech behaves.

“Leah,” Sue warns as she gives her a steel stare as she fixes Leah's hair up in a messy bun. Their eyes meet in the mirror. “Carlisle said he's on orders here. He trusts him —”

“Of course he does,” Leah snorts. “He's  _ Carlisle _ . He's been with  _ his _ kind for years. And suddenly out of the blue,  _ he _ decides to show up? Why not send the Shining Twins or the Hulk?”

“I don't know,” Sue says quietly. “I'm worried about him, too. And I want you to listen to me —” Sue places her hands on Leah's shoulder as she spins her around. “I need you to be on your best behavior. He can track us anywhere in the world. I don't want you pissing this vampire off no matter how much your brain is telling you to. If he decides to get angry —”

“I know, Mom. But I can take care of myself.”

Sue sighs. “I know, baby. But he's older than Carlisle, older than the Cullens. Just … at least try, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers, a lie so fluently rolling off her tongue.

Sue smiles and places a kiss on her forehead. “How does she look, Seth?”

Seth steps from his place from the doorway and pretends to ponder deeply. “Ugly,” he teases and Leah rolls her eyes.

* * *

When she sees the vampire leading the way onto the beach with Bella on his arm, Leah's surprised at how young he looks. Then again, she hadn't really paid him much attention on the day of the trial.

She'd been expecting someone older, more battle-hardened. This … boy is the most feared of the Volturi besides the Shining Twins? But she knows appearances can be deceiving. The vampire gives Bella away from him as she moves to greet the rest of her family who have gathered together. 

“Carlisle,” the vampire greets kindly. Oh, god. He's got a British accent and already the humans within his earshot are swooning.

_ Get a damn life!  _ she wants to shout.

“Demetri,” Carlisle replies. 

Oh, goodie. The Evil British Vampire has a name. 

“I still assume Aro's offer is still declined?” His voice is deeper than she expects it to be.

“I'm afraid so.”

Demetri nods. “He won't be pleased to hear that when I return. And the rest of your family?” His eyes wander over Alice and Jasper and Emmett before his eyes flick toward Renes — Elizabeth (at least it’s better than the  _ other _ name, thank God) — chatting with Claire in the sidelines. “Aro wishes to know if any of you are still satisfied with your lives.”

It's the same old conversations she's heard before from Jacob's memories and she lets herself tune out before the conversation ends and she spots him talking to Charlie and Sue. Heart thudding in her chest, she starts toward him before she remembers her promise to her mother. 

Leah tries to let herself mingle with the humans, but she can't stop letting herself be drawn to Demetri over and over, waiting for the moment when he reveals his true colors and attacks her friends and family. Right now, he's leaving the buffet table, holding a filled plate in his hands in an attempt to blend in and sets it down. Seeing her watching the leech, a familiar blonde-haired vampire makes her way to Leah, perfectly manicured like always, not a strand of curled hair out of place.  

“Leah,” Rosalie acknowledges curtly.

“Blondie,” Leah replies. 

Over the past few days since Leah has come back, she and Rosalie have somehow grown to a mutual respect. Leah’s not sure what to call it. They’re not really friends, but they’re also not really acquaintances either, especially since the other hates each other’s kind and vice versa. But the two have some common interests and really, Leah almost doesn’t mind hanging out with Emmett and Rosalie, if it wasn’t for the god-awful sickly sweet smell all vampires seem to have and the fact that those two were part of her mortal enemies she was supposed to kill and destroy.

“Emmett wonders what you think about the ‘69,” Rosalie says casually. 

For a second, Leah is confused. The two of them have been mending a Volkswagen ‘69 Beetle together with Emmett for the past two days but why bring that up now? Rosalie's yellow eyes never stray from the tracker’s and Leah thinks the blonde vampire is worried. Rosalie turns her eyes to meet Leah’s, a familiar expression etched briefly on her face as she tilts her head before snapping back expertly to a raised eyebrow and half-smile. Then she gets it.  _ Oh. _

Leah forces herself to keep her voice light and casual.  “The Beetle?” She lets her eyes dart toward the vampire called Demetri, then back to Rosalie’s to make sure he's who she means. She hopes to God he's not listening to them right now.

“Obviously.” 

“What do you know about it?” Leah asks.  _ What do you know about him?  _ Because she knows nothing about this leech except for the fact he's a tracker. 

“I don't know much,” Rosalie admits. “Just that it's older than you and it traveled all over the globe before landing here. It's been through more wars than Jasper and Carlisle combined. Emmett and I have noticed it has a faulty problem with it's left tire. We think from an old accident.”

A weakness in his left arm or hand. That's something she can use against him. Another familiar expression crosses over Rosalie's stone face before she can say any more and she sighs in annoyance. 

Jacob grabs her arm before she can do anything and wheels her aside from Rosalie with Seth right behind him, his voice angry but low enough for them to hear without the leech eavesdropping. “What the hell do you think you're doing? If you think plotting to take down one of them is a good idea, you're nuts. It's suicide. We have no idea what he's capable of.”

“It’s one thing to let the Cullens over here over the treaty line and now you got an Evil British Prep making a routine check up? That doesn’t raise any red flags?” Leah hisses. “Look, I'm not having some Scarf Boy from Italy ruin my mom's rehearsal dinner. Either you get him out or I will.”

“Um, Leah?” Seth's voice cuts in.

Then she smells him. He smells of well,  _ Italy _ and human cologne lingering around his scent and copper. Too much copper and it burns through her nose. That leech — he's snuck up on them. She's getting sloppy. Leah pushes Seth behind her, holding her arm out, ignoring his soft cry of protest. 

“Leah Clearwater.”

He's said her name. What. The. Fuck.

“Back up, Scarf Boy,” Leah says, pointing accusingly toward the bloodsucker. “How do you know my name? I don't know you and you don't know me.”

“I know  _ of _ you,” Demetri tells her. “You're the She-Wolf.”

She stares at him. There's something he wants, she can tell. He's looking at her like she's not dangerous, like she's — she's — well, she doesn't really know. But now that's only going to make her determined to figure it out his plan.

“Leah, he's just here for a check-up. He means us no harm.”

The vampire doesn't even look away when she meets his eyes and she struggles not to be the one who blinks first. Damn leeches and their ability to stare for all eternity. “He's a  _ Volturi _ , Jacob. You think he's here to —”

“I know that. But if you attack him right now, the others  _ will _ come after us.  _ Stand down.” _

Those two words are laced with power and Leah thinks Jacob doesn't even realize he's used it. He had sworn not to use it on them, on Seth or her. Anger spills through her as she struggles to resist his order, closing her eyes to shut the pain. But she can't, she can't and her body trembles before she wills herself still again.

“Fuck you,” Leah directs to Jacob. She sees the apologetic look on his face and it takes her a while before she's able to speak again. Leah slips on a brave face when she remembers the leech is still watching. “Don't do that again.”

She grabs her brother's arm and tugs him along with her before she stops in front of Demetri to give her message because she  _ will _ kill him if he decides to try anything. Her eyes glare into his. Demetri blinks dramatically. 

She's so tired and done with all this shit. 

“Stay away from my family and I won't kill you.”

Before she can pass him, a cold hand wraps around her arm, stopping her in place. 

“You know,” Demetri smiles wickedly and his dark eyes turn into what she thinks is amusement. “That was a nice conversation you had with Mrs. Hale back there. I'm not one to mince about my own demise, but by all means …  I'd love to see you try.” 

She's trembling and it's the reminder of Seth's hand in hers that throws her back in reality. He's baiting her — that fucker. She won't fall for it. Leah wrenches her arm away, throws him another deadly glare and storms off without another word, dragging Seth along with her.

* * *

The vampire stands in the back of the crowd perfectly straight with his arms tucked behind his back like the perfect gentleman, hair spiked up, shoulders moving to keep up the appearance he's breathing for the humans.

Old Human Leah would surely have been sucked right in his act. With that damn accent and all. 

_ Polite and charming _ , Leah notices as she continues to watch the Italian bloodsucker.  _ Not much of a talker, either _ .  _ A deadly combination. _

Leah knows the signs of a scout when she sees one. How many more are with him, hiding in the distance, buried in the woods? With the revolting vampire stench around her, she has no way of telling. 

Leah can practically feel the burning of his eyes on her skin again when she leaves the table to get another drink. The shapeshifter turns, ignoring Sue's warning from earlier and gives her best smug smile and quickly raises her middle finger toward him. Hopefully, it's enough to get this bloodsucker to get the final message to leave her home.

He only raises his eyebrows slightly.

_ The fuck? _

A challenge then. She can do that. 

Her eyes can't help but hone onto the battle scars peeking out from under his sleeves. Thousands of bite marks, more than Jasper Cullen himself. Just like Blondie said.

_ Jesus, how old is this leech? _

Under the moonlight, she can almost pretend he's human — if it isn't for the smell and the tale-tell red eyes underneath those dark contacts. The order from Jacob still rings threateningly in her head. 

_ Stand down.  _

Well, then. If Leah can't resist Jacob's orders, she'll just have to make do, won't she?

* * *

 

**DEMETRI**

* * *

There she is.

The young woman from the thoughts he's acquired over the years. One of shapeshifters Aro finds so fascinating and part of the tribe Caius wants to dispose of. The one currently conspiring his death with the blonde Cullen, Rosalie. He's been around long enough to know a false conversation when he sees it.

Aro never wields the hammer unless he has to, but the Cullens have made a mockery of their Coven and so Demetri figures it might as well be their death sentence in the first place. Marcus’ cryptic words whispers in the back of his mind.

_ Leah Clearwater.  _ Her name suits her.

Demetri's only knows her from what he's seen through everyone's else's eyes and thoughts. And from what he's seen, he knows she can take care of herself. She's proven herself time and time again but the others don't see it that way. 

They think of her a bitch, all just for being female and being blessed with the shapeshifter gene for the first time in centuries.

He doesn't know her. But even Demetri can see the strong will and the potential she has and for that, he finds her fascinating. 

The rest of the rehearsal goes smoothly — or as smoothly as one can with the unspoken tension in the air. The shapeshifters and vampires turn to glance in his direction occasionally while the soon-to-be bride and groom pay no mind as they continue a Quileute toast to everyone and Demetri knows with one look, without a doubt, that the former Chief  _ knows _ about the existence of vampires. 

_ Unacceptable _ , a nasty voice in the back of his mind says. He ignores Edward Cullen's stare as he watches the couple from the back, remaining silent.

Sue Clearwater continues one of her toasts in Quileute (thankfully translated by the pompous Edward) and Demetri can't help but think of the long lost what-could've-beens. 

( Αν έμεινα. Aν έμεινα. Αν έμεινα. )

_ ( _ _ If I'd stayed. If I'd stayed. If I'd stayed _ _.) _

Demetri smiles wistfully when the couple kiss, his smile disappearing as quick as it has come, as he knows he will never have those things. He's dedicated to his job and he knows nothing else but blood and death and only the heartbreak he will bring along with him. 

He deserves none of those things. 

He hasn't earned it. 

* * *

La Push is not a place for the rich. But it's home for the people who live here and that's all they know, the past passed down from generation to generation, Demetri can tell that much. He listens to the chanting and the drums and hear the crackling of the bonfire the young Quileutes are dancing around; a celebration for Sue and Charlie.

Past the flickering flames and rising embers disappearing into the blackening night sky, he can see Leah Clearwater. Her cautious eyes have not strayed from his wandering form all night, like the rest of the two tribes and the Cullens while the humans remain blissfully unaware. She's wary and rightfully so. Honestly, he can't blame her. He's on her territory  _ and _ her home. 

Demetri politely declines a dance with one of Isabella's old friends as a soft vibration comes from his coat pocket. Short bursts, twice. With one smooth motion, he places the phone against his ear and leaves the place of her sanctuary and makes his way into the woods.

_ “Demetri, my love.” _

“Heidi.”

He follows no particular trail. Around him, the nature of the forest quiets as prey flee from him. Only the wind gently sways the branches around him from side to side and a small clearing appears. Behind him, he can hear the almost-silent footsteps of one particular wolf. 

If it hadn't been for the unusual wetness of her blood and that harsh moist musky — well, he's not really sure what to call it —  _ wolf _ smell that usually lingered around her kind and her loud thoughts announcing her presence, Demetri is almost positive he'd never know she was there.

_ “How is your report coming along?” _

“Both the mind-reader and the procognitive still refuse Aro's offer,” he pauses briefly, as he unwraps his scarf from his neck, “Not a surprise there.”

_ “I see. And the child?” _

“She has grown considerably. Less than a year, I presume, until she's fully grown. And … there's been a  _ drastic _ change to the child’s name. She's now called Elizabeth Carlie Cullen. C-A-R-L-I-E. Named after Edward Cullen's mother, Saint Carlisle and Charlie Swan.”

_ “At least it isn't worse than that other abomination of a name,” _ Heidi comments. Behind him, he can imagine the shapeshifter rolling her eyes in agreement and biting back a laugh. At last, they have something in common.  _ “I'll let Aro know of your progress … and this new information about the child. And the shapeshifters?” _

“They've grown in numbers. At least, six more I've seen,” Demetri tells her. He falls quiet, remembering how young they are. How lively they had been at the dinner. How that innocence would be ripped away if the Volturi decided to arrive in Forks again. “They are only children, Heidi. Some not older than the witch-twins. And the brother and sister pair, the Clearwaters … their mother is marrying Charlie Swan.”

_ “What an interesting development. I'll be sure to pass this along to Aro that Carlisle did not seem to inform us of these matters. Does the father know?” _

Demetri hesitates. He's never had a reason to lie to Heidi before. But with Marcus’ strange words he'd spoken before he left, he can't help but feel like he should. “No.”

Her thoughts make their way toward him and he can feel the confusion and suspicious in her words.  _ That's a lie. Why did you lie? _

_ “Excellent.” _

Demetri chuckles. “I'll give you the rest of my report when I'm finished. There's something else I still need to do.”

_ “Of course,” _ Heidi says. Then:  _ “I miss you.” _

_ Blegh. Are these two mates?  _

“And I you.  _ Addio, amore _ .”

_ “Addio.” _

He clicks the cellphone shut, slipping it back into his pocket. Is he doing the right thing? If he went back, Caius would rain the fires of hell on him and spit eternal damnation on the very silver of a soul he has left.

_ Traitor _ , they'd call him. 

_ A way out,  _ Marcus whispers.  _ Take it. _

* * *

 

**LEAH**

* * *

For a while, the leech says nothing.

The leech is still like the tree she is hiding behind and Leah's ready to turn, turn, turn, and run back to where she came from and tell her pack what she's heard.

But she can't bring herself to move. She can't wrap her head around the fact that this vampire, this leech,  _ lied _ about Charlie knowing about the existence of vampires. Why? It makes absolutely no sense and she  _ knows _ she'd seen it on his face when Charlie went up to the podium.

“I know you're out there _. _ ”

_ Fuck. _

“All right, Scarf Boy,” Leah smiles, stepping out from her hiding place. “You caught me.”

Her bare feet slide out from underneath her body when she steps into the open. She'd shucked her shoes earlier — a sight she will not miss. The shapeshifter raises her hands in mock surrender as she walks to him, careful to maintain her distance. “Had to make sure you weren’t snacking on one of my mom’s friends, right?”

Within an eyeblink, he’s in front of her. “Of course, Miss Clearwater,” he says in his British lilt slowly. They’re six feet apart, his eyes roaming over her frame. “I understand the situation you're in very clearly.”

“Don’t do that,” she says, frowning. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. It’s just as simple as that.”

“My name is Demetri —”

“I don’t care,” Leah tells him. Her head shakes slightly in anger, the smell of human blood wafting to her. From  _ him _ . He's fed recently, a while ago — an hour? six hundred years ago? she doesn't know — and anger boils. “You are trespassing on my home.”

“And I apologize for that.” 

Leah almost falters at his tone because he seems to actually sound … sincere? The tracker takes a step forward. He’s her enemy's  _ enemy _ . What is she thinking? 

Vampires  _ always _ have tricks up their sleeves.

Demetri’s head cocks slightly. For a heartbeat, there is nothing. He seems to be dissecting Leah, looking for any weaknesses he can probe from her.  _ No, no, fuck that! I'm not falling for that! _

“You think you can take me?” the tracker asks softly. There’s another word at the end of his sentence but she doesn’t know what it is. He sounds curious, almost. “Tell me, Miss Clearwater … that wolf of yours is calling out to you, isn't she? Telling you to attack me?” 

_ Yes …  _

The shadows of the tree branches on his face disappear as he takes another step forward into the moonlight. 

Dangerous. Lethal. 

Crimson eyes bleed back into her own — a reminder of who he really is. His contacts have dissolved and she curls defensively. 

“But do you really want to?”

_ What? _

Her brows furrow together. Does she? 

_ Yes! You hate the stupid leeches! _

“Is it her … or you that wants to kill me, Miss Clearwater?” Demetri lowers his upper body in a mocking bow, his eyes never leaving hers.

She trembles. How much  _ is _ the wolf and how much of this is her? She's never really thought about it before and she never cared. Every instinct of her body is screaming to her. How much of this is — Demetri’s risen from his bow. He’s looking at her leisurely before he disappears and reappears in front of her. 

God, she can't  _ stand _ the vampire smell. She's never gotten used to it the way Jake and Seth have. There's an expression on his face she can't identify. His hand is reaching out to touch her — cheek? arm? — she doesn't know and her hand wraps around his wrist hard before he can. 

“I will tear you apart,” she promises. She will go down fighting — wolf or not. At the least, if he kills her right here and then, she'll take him down with her.

Demetri stares. Something flashes through his eyes before it disappears. A breath between his lips as he leans in to her ear: “Try me. I give you that honor. But before you do —” Her lips curl dangerously and for a moment, the two lock eyes when he pulls his head back, raising his hands. “I need you to calm yourself, Miss Clearwater. I do not wish to harm you.”

The smell of old and new blood suck their way into her lungs as she inhales a breath and the pain in her body rises tenfold. Her wolf urges her to phrase. “Liar,” she hisses between her teeth. “Why are you here?”

“Because Caius wishes extinction on your kind like he's done for the Children many centuries ago. Aro thinks you may be of use as … guard dogs of a sort. I am here either way to report back whether or not you deserve salvation. That includes the Cullens, who've made a mockery on my Coven.”

What. The. Actual. Hell.

Leah blinks incredulously and her body begins to still slowly, though she's still guarded. For the first time in her life since her awakening, she struggles to ignore the wolf inside of her. She hadn't been expecting for him to sprout off all of … that. “What?” she deadpans, even though she's already correctly heard him clearly the first time. His words pique her interest.

The leech raises an eyebrow. “I think you heard me very clearly, Miss Clearwater.”

Leah pauses, carefully trying to gauge his expression but she can't. If what Blondie says is true, then he's got the upper hand with a thousand years worth of experience, while the other rational part of her brain is telling her to kill this leech once and for all. She has the chance. But she's a survivor and right now, she needs to play this smart. This is his game and she decides to allow herself a spot on his chessboard. If Demetri wants to play, let's play.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” asks Leah suspiciously. She crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Because I fear they are going after the last of the Children in my absence.”

“Children,” Leah says slowly. “Okay, you've said that twice. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“We call them the Children of the Moon. You call them werewolves. Their blood is tied to the full moon unlike yours, where you can change at free will. Your kind are merely shapeshifters.”

_ Taha Aki _ , she remembers. The story at the bonfire at the Council. The Angry Blonde Roman Dude yelling at the trial.  _ Regardless, the Cullens have been consorting with werewolves, our natural enemies! _

“Oh,” is all Leah says. “And where are they?”

“The last of them reside in Canada.”

“And you'd like me to be all Dances With Wolves,” Leah realizes and lets out a little laugh.  _ Ironic. _

Demetri shifts on his feet. “I suppose. You would act as interpreter, of course. I have no way of telling if their leadership has changed hands since it's been centuries since I have been in contact with them. She — ”

“She?”

Demetri pauses, his expression indecipherable. “Yes. She.”

He'd reeled her in — hook, line, and sinker. 

_ She. _

Her fingers curl and unclench and Leah's lips move wordlessly, still processing that single word. That one word has now slithered its way into her soul and her eyes can't keep up with his unnerving, unblinking gaze and she glances to the trees beside him.

God, how long has it been since he's caught her following him? It feels like an eternity. 

_ She. _

Leah has a chance to get ahold of the answers she needs. All the questions she's always wanted to ask are all on her tongue and she can ask them and ask: why did she become what she is now? 

_ She. _

Now she has a chance and she'd be foolish not to take it while she can. 

_ She —  _

Her eyes slowly wander to his. The deep burgundy color and the dark pupils stare back into hers — still as stone, waiting,  _ patient _ . There are  _ others _ out there like her and they shed their wolves out inside them every full moon and — 

“You were never going to let me leave here,” she asks carefully, after quickly sucking in a sharp breath to regain herself, “Were you?” She straightens herself, her body taut and head high, slipping on a stoic façade. He's seen a momentarily bout of weakness from her and that she can't forgive. 

Scarf Boy's shoulders rise once. “I couldn't,” he tells her and she wonders what that means. She only gives him a small frown and decides to say nothing. Her expression is one of skepticism and cautiousness and she knows no doubt that he already recognizes it. Here she is, about to make a deal with one of the Devils from Italy and now he owes her a dance.

“What do you say, Miss Clearwater?” Demetri smiles after a heartbeat, his perfect teeth glinting off in the moonlight. “Shall we run away together?”

His pale fingers rise towards her, outstretched. 

(She tells herself this is the right thing: she's protecting her family, her tribe, her  _ home _ . She's protecting Seth. No  _ leech _ is going to step foot on Quileute land  _ ever _ again.)

Her warm russet fingers interchange with the cool pale white of his.

_ “Fine.” _ She hisses out that one single word like it's venom, which in her case, it might as well be. 

She chides herself, annoyance gritting her teeth as they shake once and he lets go of her hand. She has made her own bed and now she'll have to lie in it. Leah sighs, trying to study the leech in front of her. 

“But first things first, I'm not running all the goddamn way to Canada.”

* * *

**NEXT UP:**  Riley and Bree make their way further south; Leah struggles to find a way to say goodbye to her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I apologize for the long wait and life just gets in the way, you know? I really hope you enjoy this chapter and keep a look out for the next Sunday in three weeks (the 4th of next month!) I'm hoping to do weekly updates every three weeks! I'm really proud of this chapter because well, Demetri and Leah finally met! Feel free to give me criticism or kudos or just leave a short comment below if you liked this chapter. :)


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